


The Anatomy of a Robin

by JupiterMelichios



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Character Study, Costumes, Dick Grayson is Batman, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson-centric, Fade to Black, Ficlet, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Identity, Identity Porn, Nostalgia, Secret Identity, Tim Drake is Batman, up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterMelichios/pseuds/JupiterMelichios
Summary: Tim grins, and this time he looks entirely like himself, right down to the fact that he’s clearly about to say something awful. “Every Batman needs a Robin.”The words cut through Dick like a whip, cut right to the core of him and leave all the things he normally keeps locked up inside out there for anyone to see, except there’s no one here but Tim. “You didn’t.”Tim nods towards Dick’s locker. “See for yourself.”
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	The Anatomy of a Robin

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Prodigal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/155077) by [irrelevant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrelevant/pseuds/irrelevant). 



> I read irrelevant's wonderful series 'the skin you're in', and my brain immediately went "but what if Tim was Batman" and the idea just wouldn't go away, so even though we can all agree that Tim being Batman is how you know you're in the darkest timeline, I wrote this anyway.
> 
> You don't have to have read 'the skin you're in' to enjoy this, but it will make more sense if you do, and honestly if you have any interest in Dick/Tim as a ship you owe it to yourself to check it out.

The first time he sees Tim wearing the cowl, he’s…

Well, people have been telling Dick he’s old enough to know better since he was knee high to a grasshopper, so he’s not sure the words actually mean anything, but he is sure that whatever age it is you’re supposed to magically ‘know better’, he left it in the dust a long time ago.

And maybe he has learned something in his life, because he refrains from saying the first thing that comes into his head, or even the sixth.

What he says is, “How are you holding up?”

Tim’s Robin hadn’t smiled all that often, and almost never at anything anyone but him found amusing. Tim’s Batman smiles like the Oracle avatar. Which makes its own kind of sense. Of all of them, he was the Robin most defined by Batgirl.

“That well, huh?”

“Next time the family needs a Batman, Damian can do it,” Tim says. It’s not quite the Voice, but it’s not quite Red either, not deep enough for the cowl he’s wearing, not mean enough for the one he isn’t.

“It’s not kind to wish mental trauma on your siblings,” Dick says. He clasps his hands behind his back, pushes up onto his toes, and then freezes, aware suddenly that that’s a mannerism he hasn’t had since he gave up the red and green, and not sure he wants to examine why it had suddenly decided to come back.

He’s had a lot of practise as understanding facial expressions hidden behind black kevlar and white lenses, so he knows exactly what look Tim is giving him as he says, “I’m not kind. I’m Batman.”

That  _ was  _ the Voice, and it’s not fair that Tim’s already better at it than Dick had ever been, but he’s not sure which of them it’s unfair  _ to _ .

He wants to hug his little brother, but there’s something holding him back, something…

He doesn’t know. The years he spent in the cowl had taught him a lot but they hadn’t made him any better at knowing his own mind than he’d ever been. He thinks sometimes his mind’s like a kettle - it’ll never do its thing if you’re watching it. He needs to find something else to focus on, and while he’s looking away his subscious will come to the boil. Or something.

He was never the one with the talent for metaphors. He leaves that to Bruce and Jason and their shared love of capital L Literature.

“Ready for your first night on the street?” he asks.

“Nearly. I’m just missing one thing.”

That doesn’t sound like Tim, or like Alfred for that matter. Dick’s pretty sure the Tim-sized Batsuits have had all their various pouches and secret compartments fully stocked since the day the first one appeared in the cave. (He remembers, vividly, the first time he’d found them, tucked away neatly at the back of one of the costume closets in between Caroline’s white coat and one of Matches’s polyester suits, where no one except Tim and Bruce were likely to find them. He’d never actually talked to either of them about it, because he couldn’t find the right words to express the mixture of fear and heartbreak and jealousy and anger at Bruce’s pig-headedness they inspired in him.) “What’s that?”

Tim grins, and this time he looks entirely like himself, right down to the fact that he’s clearly about to say something awful. “Every Batman needs a Robin.”

The words cut through Dick like a whip, cut right to the core of him and leave all the things he normally keeps locked up inside out there for anyone to see, except there’s no one here but Tim. “You didn’t.”

Tim nods towards Dick’s locker. “See for yourself.”

Walking to the locker feels like wading through treacle, and he doesn’t know if it’s fear or excitement that’s making his heart hammer. Doesn’t want to know.

The suit is folded up in the locker, with the Domino resting on top of the neat pile and the boots set to the side, the same way Vic always used to fold them when it was his turn to do the laundry at the Tower. Dick wonders if he’d done the same when Tim was a Titan, but mostly he wonders where the hell Tim had gotten the costume from.

With hands that are only shaking a little, he picks up the black domino, feels the weight of modern tech hidden behind its vintage design.

The tunic is less bulky than he remembers, but then he’s a lot better at not getting hit now than he was back then, and the materials they use have come on light years. The shorts are that same weird scaly material that Dick had picked out as a boy because it was the closest to sequins he thought Bruce would let him get away with, but he can feel from the shape of it that the jock hidden at the bottom of the pile is the quick-release kind he’d worn under the  _ first  _ Nightwing suit, back when proximity to Kori (and Roy, and Wally, and Donna, and even occasionally Vic and Raven) had made ease of access a priority.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring at a uniform, an  _ identity _ , he’d given up a lifetime ago.

He dreams about it, sometimes. About who he might have been if Bruce hadn’t… About how it would feel to go back, just for a night. He knew he never could. Not with Bruce wearing the cowl. That ship sailed long ago.

But Bruce isn’t wearing the cowl right now. And more importantly, Tim knows what it feels like to be Robin. Tim  _ is  _ Robin, just like Jay still is, and Dami, and Dick. He’d moved on from the identity and the role, he’d moved from Bruce in a lot of ways, but he could never really move on from being Robin. It’s who he is, just like Nightwing is who he is, and, much as he might sometimes wish otherwise, Batman. No one outside the community could ever really understand that, just like no one outside the family could ever really know what it means to be Robin.

But Tim knows. And Tim’s offering it to him.

“You don’t have to,” Tim says, quietly. “Your choice, always.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Dick says, stroking his thumb along the curve of the domino. “It was… It was a long time ago.”

“No pressure,” Tim says, and the strange and wonderful and scary thing about Tim is that he sounds exactly like he means it. “It was just a thought.”

Having the costume made required a lot more than a thought, but Dick knows that if he lets the lie stand, Tim won’t call him on it.

“I want it,” he admits, his voice coming out small and scared. “God, you don’t know how much I want it.”

“You can have it. You can have it, and then you can put it back on the shelf once you’re done. I’m not asking for forever. Just one night.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather have Nightwing?”

“Whatever you want, Dick. Whatever you’re willing to give.”

God, it’s easy to forget sometimes that Tim is more like Bruce than any of them, including Damian, right up until he says something like that. “I want…” He picks up the domino again, stares into its white eyes. “I want this.”

“Then take it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love
> 
> Find me on tumblr at JupterMelichios


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